Ice Over Burned Hands
by E. Greyjoy
Summary: Lucius didn't want that specific Black sister, but he had a duty to his family and his bloodline.


Whenever Lucius Malfoy dared to look at Bellatrix Black he could only see the pewter in her eyes and stare at them in fascination. They looked like storm clouds ready to let hail ruin the land beneath them, never caring about the outcome. She didn't have to care; in Lucius' eyes, that was what made her even more perfect. The careless attitude whenever she chose to hurt someone was what won him over.

"Malfoy," she said to him one afternoon as soon as he entered the Common Room. She had a letter on her hand and a smirk on her lips. "My mother sent word of a betrothal between our families."

Lucius looked at her with only a hint of curiosity on his eyes (which, he liked to note, were a paler shade of grey than hers), he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing _he didn't know_ what she was talking about.

"And what do you make of the news?" he asked, playing along and hoping she would shed some information he could use. A part of him, a lively piece of his cruel heart, also hoped that the betrothal was between them, not only between their _families_.

Bellatrix shrugged and made a noncomital noise.

"Surely you think my family is worth being part of yours?" she said in a playful tone of voice slightly colored by flirting.

Lucius smirked. His eyes smiled.

"There would never be a better match than a Malfoy and a Black, the most Ancient and Pure families."

The mocking laughter of Bellatrix reached his ears.

"Little Lucius always talking about purity," she said with a baby-voice he found incredibly annoying. "What matters is only power, Lucius, not what our families can buy for us."

His eyes narrowed.

"Stop it, Bella, that voice is obnoxious."

She laughed, almost making Lucius smile at the cruel sound of her laughter.

"Whatever, little Lucius," she told him. "What I want to know is if you will enjoy your married life with my little sister, or should I tell her about your misdeeds with those Ravenclaws?"

Narcissa, then, not Bellatrix. Lucius couldn't help but feel disappointed at that. Narcissa was gorgeous, even more beautiful than Bellatrix, but she was docile and would not challenge him. Bellatrix would have given him nightmares, but the kind of nightmares you _like to have_ because they give you a reflection of the fears within your soul.

"Let her come to me and discover it for herself, Bellatrix," he told her, somewhat annoyed by the prospect of marrying her sister. "The only thing you need to know is that any misdeeds I might commit in the future will stop the day I take your sister for bride. Malfoys don't dishonor Malfoys."

Bellatrix's face fell for a fraction of a second, but she composed herself right after.

"Then, I hope you get all you want in your little child-wife, Lucius," she says, somehow bitterly, before seductively walking away. "And remember, Narcissa might take your surname, but she won't stop being a Black."

Lucius tried and failed to look away from her, allowing himself to sigh and rub his temples when Bellatrix finally reached the staircase that would take her down to her dorm room. Lucius was left to think in solitude, with only some other seventh and sixth years lingering in the Common Room, and none of them with any reason to talk to him.

Narcissa Black was to be his wife. Child wife, Bellatrix had called her, though Narcissa was already fourteen years old and they would not marry (Lucius would not permit it) until she completed her education. The thought of marrying her didn't bother him much; he knew his mother would try and match him with a proper pureblood witch before he was out of Hogwarts.

What bothered him was that she was not her sister. Bellatrix was more powerful, even if she didn't have the icy beauty of Narcissa.

Bellatrix was fire made flesh, always burning everyone with her words (and curses) without caring and destroying whatever stood on her way to greatness. Untouchable unless you wanted to get hurt.

Narcissa had ice on her soul and her mind: Lucius had seen and heard how she talked to people of lesser social standing, stabbing them with icicles. She was as unreachable as the snows of the Everest. Lucius could learn to like that.

The problem was he didn't want that. Having Narcissa when he clearly wanted Bellatrix was as unpleasant and harmful as holding ice over a particular harsh burn on his hands. It was conforming himself with a galleon when he could have a diamond. Enduring instead of enjoying.

But as the Heir of the Malfoy family, he was obligued to do as his parents wished.

Standing up from the couch, Lucius went towards his room. He would do as they bid him, but that doesn't mean he would have to like it.


End file.
